Read Online Minstrel's Serenade by Aubrie Dionne - Free Book Online Page A

Her father had died preventing the dead from walking in the land of the living. Had the king perished in vain?
    No festering army followed the figure as it claimed the center of the circle, placing a long, knobbed staff into the earth with a black, gloved hand no bigger than Danika’s. The figure raised an arm, tan as treated leather, from the folds of fabric and spread an upturned palm, the universal gesture showing he or she meant no harm. Blood pulsed in the veins running down the arm, and the skin, though wrinkled from the sun, was unbroken and not infected. This was no leader of the dead.
    Yet, Danika spotted the bone horn hanging from the figure’s neck on a thick chord of twined human hair. A skull with horns on either side had been carved into the bell, the crest of Sill.
    Bron glanced at Danika with a questioning gaze. He tapped his fingers on the claymore’s hilt.
    This figure had saved their lives. They would be worse than the kobolds if they attacked.
    No. They owed this specter a life debt. Danika shook her head. Bron lowered the tip of his sword, and a single drip of black blood oozed to the ground.
    The figure threw back its hood. Wayward, windblown blond hair streaked with white frizzled outward in a halo around a foxlike face wearied by wrinkles and time. One eye, green as the forest in mid-summer’s sun, stared back at them with curiosity. White film covered the other eye in a thick, cloudy cataract. Wrinkles webbed across her once beautiful face and age spots mottled every inch of her skin.
    Danika blinked in disbelief.
    Impossible.
    If time had sped thirty years in the future, she’d be staring at herself.
    It couldn’t be. She’d left for Jamal with her minstrel lover.Danika still had the letter, scribbled in hasty strokes, apologizing and bidding farewell. Yet, only one woman possessed a horn of the dead, given to her by her husband after he’d won the first battle with the army of Sill.
    Bron dropped to his knees. He bowed his head before the old woman, reaffirming what Danika knew in the crux of her heart. “My Queen.”
    “Bronford Thoridian of Oaten’s Dell.” The former queen of Ebonvale placed a hand on his shoulder. “A brave and lionhearted man you’ve turned out to be.”
    Her gaze roamed to Danika, the sparkling green eye watery with melancholy. “My dear daughter, you are more glorious than I ever imagined.”
    Anger, hatred, guilt and regret poured into Danika’s soul in a foul brew. She could hardly bear to ask her runaway mother for assistance. However, Valorian lay beneath her hands with an ashen face laced in sweat.
    “Please.” Danika took in a shaky breath. “We need your aid.”
    The former queen glanced at Valorian and her green eye grew dark and hard as flagstone. She scanned the shivering woods. “You’re lucky you wandered into my hunting snares.” She reached underneath a mossy log and pulled a dead hare from a trap. “They’ll return in larger numbers. If you want to live, come with me.”
    Danika nodded to Bron. “Let’s get moving.”
    She tied her scarf around the minstrel’s shoulder in a sling, then rose to survey the damage. Two of the horses lay on patches of blood-stained pine needles, their throats cut. Danika’s heart dropped as she recognized one of them as Thunderhooves. Hadn’t Nip lost enough?
    Bron stood beside her making the sign of Helena’s sword. “They fought bravely.”
    Danika turned away from the bloody sight. “Make sure the boy does not see this.”
    “He’s too smart for his own good.” Bron shook his head and pulled a jagged, hilted dagger from the horse’s flank. He studied the serrated blade with disgust and threw it into the woods. “He’ll know soon enough.”
    Danika grabbed his arm. “Please. Not now.”
    Bron nodded. “So be it.” He lifted the tree from the carriage and Nip’s round face peered out the glass window. The warrior blocked the view of the dead horses with his massive waist.
    Thank Helena Bron